


The Dead Riser's Doll

by lollipoplobsterlips



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut, non-con, shy babu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8755864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollipoplobsterlips/pseuds/lollipoplobsterlips
Summary: Shy, wimpy Horace is surprised by Enoch's sudden actions. He has requested that Horace be his doll for a little "experiment", and wanting to be the nice friend that he his, Horace accepts.However, he had no idea what Enoch meant by "experiment".





	

_"tried to bend your kneecaps and they shattered, tried to move your legs but they bolted your joints together, and the more you tried, the more you knew, this had been the way they’d built you, in the body of a ball jointed doll, you’re so fragile you can’t move at all_  
  
_but i just want to touch you and i promise i won’t break you, if you would be my doll just for a day, then i would put you back into, back into your case_  
  
_pieced your limbs together with chalk-ware skin, painted the cupid’s bow above your lips, you’re so beautiful but so delicate, the porcelain cracks up your back and neck, in the body of a ball jointed doll, you’re so fragile you can’t move at all_  
  
_but i just want to touch you and i promise i won’t break you, if you would be my doll just for a day, then i would put you back into, back into your case"_

_\-  Nicole Dollanganger "Ball Jointed Doll"_

 

_\---_

The wind whipped at the rocky ledges, tossing sea water up onto the cliffs. Seagulls and other scavengers soared through the air, cawing and squawking like starving babies crying for solace.

The Island of Cairnholm was gloomy to all those in the present, yet those who resided within Miss Peregrine's home enjoyed the luxury of the sunny, brilliant day in the 1940's. The peculiar children were safe within the time loop, living the same day over and over again. It was peaceful for them, yet they still had to do their chores and listen to their headmistress. 

There were times when they had a few scares, thinking that a ravenous hollowgast or a sneaky wight was at their doorstep. However, with each scare came a solution: Miss Peregrine. If they were shady enough she may quickly snap their neck and give the organs to Enoch, but if they seemed innocent she would escort them off the property as quickly as possible.

Enoch.

Skinny, blistered fingers carefully scooped the heart of a mouse from a jar. Dark-ringed blue eyes stared numbly down at the little organ, fingers gently caressing the leathery, damp morsel. The boy then got up from his wooden chair and walked across the damp, cold basement floor and to another table covered in clay, wood, and other substances that smelt of death. The blue eyed boy didn't mind the stench and blew his messy blonde hair out of his eyes. Carefully, he scooped up a clay-made humanoid figure, so small that it could fit in someone's hand easily. With patience and expertise as if he'd done this so many times before, he slid the heart into the empty cavity of a chest and tapped it around a bit, using small little wires full of blood to connect the heart to the host.

He had, however, done this many times before. Bored, he watched the little man scamper around on the desk, not knowing what to do with itself. It took small pieces of clay and tapped them against the wood of the table. After what felt like hours, the little man stopped and only stared up at those gloomy blue eyes.

Lifting a finger, the boy pressed his fingertip against the head of the clay man and by doing so knocked the thing off balance. Once it fell over, it became inanimate and silent. Yet another boring creation.

Enoch was getting tired of the same things over and over again. Occasionally he would try to sneak out of the loop and retrieve newer, more interesting things than the oh so familiar objects of the 1940's. For a short time they intrigued him and kept him busy, but as time went on he only continued to get bored. Nothing was different, everything was the same, day after day. The objects of the present no longer sated his sadistic need for bringing the dead to life, for making the inanimate feel pain. 

Grumbling, he got back up and stuffed his dirty hands into the torn pockets of his pants. He came out from the stairwell and stepped onto much cleaner flooring. With a huff, he looked around the home and noticed a few of his "friends" through the window. They were playing with that silly ball again. 

Enoch did appreciate those he resided with, but did not like to admit so. Mostly they annoyed him or pestered him and made him feel things he didn't want to feel. Yet, he still cared for them. What he didn't understand is how they found it fun to play with a dumb ball. It wasn't alive, it was just tossed around and kicked. To be able to feel the heart beating, to see the alertness in a once-inanimate object's form... that was what Enoch understood.

"Enoch!" 

The blue-eyed boy turned his head to see the slightly shorter, skinnier, frail-looking boy that was exhausting to just look at. It was understandable that one would like to wear a nice suit once in a while, perhaps to impress a female, but wearing said clothing every single day was too much. The monocle and top hat didn't help, either. He almost looked like a doll. Enoch much preferred his raggedy old clothing over fancy outfits, much to Miss Peregrine's disliking.

"Hello, Horace," he said quietly to his well-dressed friend. As the younger approached the older, the older felt a smart insult bubble up within his mind at seeing how short the fancy child was, even with the top hat. Strangely, he found a bit of joy and entertainment from being around Horace. Perhaps because he always looked so ridiculous. 

"How might you be today? It's nice to see you coming out of that filthy basement for once." Horace adjusted the monocle and frowned at Enoch's messy hair. "My, you must fix those strands of yours." He took off his top hat with his small, fragile hand and motioned to his own brilliant, shiny blond hair. "See? Mine is more well-kept!"

Raising a brow, Enoch leaned forward very slightly, staring at Horace's shiny hair. As he did, he caught sight of gentle airflow rustling a few of the blond strands. The gentle movement of those strands, the light making them glow softly. He was transfixed on his friend's hair. Before he could realize what he was doing, he reached out to touch the top of Horace's head.

"Stop!" With a yelp, Horace leapt out of Enoch's reach. "Don't touch, please!" He quickly patted his hair, as if all of a sudden insecure, before he put his hat atop his head once more.

Enoch couldn't ignore the feeling of disappointment. Was he really too dirty? He looked down at his hands and noticed the dust and dirt trapped beneath his finger nails. He examined the blisters and calluses, before raising his head to Horace. "Sorry." That unbelievable apology was all that could come out from his mouth.

There WAS something that Enoch could find entertainment in, he realized. Or, perhaps, someone. His little friend was so hilarious to be around, and Enoch questioned himself if it were rude to think of Horace as being embarrassing to be around, too.  _Embarrassingly cute..._ he thought. 

He twitched in disbelief, but couldn't deny his consciousness. The well-dressed boy was so fragile and small compared to Enoch's pudgier, lankier figure. Enoch had always questioned some of the thoughts that came into his head when near Horace, but typically pushed them aside for his own sake. He didn't dare show weakness or emotion towards his peers, not even to the understanding, remarkably aware Horace.

However, Enoch's cruel, arrogant heart was starting to beat wildly as he envisioned himself cradling the smaller boy in his arms, trailing his fingers across every inch of skin, feeling the blood pulse within those fragile veins. The increase in his feelings must have come from his extreme boredom.

He might as well not make himself suffer any longer. Slowly, Enoch bowed his head. "My apologies, Horace..." he murmured softly, his voice cracking.  _Man up, you fool... He has no idea,_ Enoch thought to himself. Gently, he took his friend's small hand. His skin was so smooth compared to his own rough, filthy hands.

Horace squinted at Enoch slightly as he accepted the gesture, carefully wrapping his fingers around Enoch's. "What is this, Enoch?" he questioned. "You aren't typically the one to walk with hands linked..." Behind Horace's attempt to remain calm, Enoch noticed a blush on Horace's cheeks and decrease in the size of his pupils.

 _Shit, does he know?_ Enoch frowned slightly to himself. Of course he would, Enoch knew that Horace dreamt of things that may not have occurred yet. Carefully, Enoch turned towards the basement door.  _Maybe he doesn't know. Even if he doesn't, it would be marvelous to see him look so flustered..._

Those cruel thoughts didn't appear cruel to Enoch at all as he gently tugged Horace down into the basement. Their shoes tapped against the cement, and the air grew colder as they went farther down. "I'd like to experiment something, would you be willing to help me?" 

Horace gulped and Enoch felt his nervous grin in the dim light. "M-My, of course, friend! As long as you don't pull me apart and place a heart that is not my own within my ribs, aha..ahh.."

Encouraged by Horace's nervous laughter, he shut the wooden door quietly and he led his friend through the cellar, turning a switch on a lamp that sat on a table. The gentle glow of the flame illuminated several jars of a yellow-ish substance and well-kept organs. Horace squealed slightly when he noticed the strange shapes in the jars, and shook himself, moving away from the table. "Oh dear oh dear oh dear..." he mumbled and closed his eyes, lowering his head.

Enoch chuckled quietly, moving one leg slowly forward as he stepped closer to his friend. He bowed down slightly, tilting his head to see Horace's face underneath the top hat. "If the jars bother you this badly, I wouldn't take a look around the room... There's far more disturbing things here." Carefully, he turned and grasped the handle of the lamp and moved it closer. "First, I will have to check your physical health. Say "ah"."

Horace squinted at Enoch from behind his hat, hesitantly opening his mouth for Enoch. He had his head too low, so Enoch grabbed his chin and lifted his head, earning a squeal from the flustered boy. Enoch grinned quietly at Horace, looking into his eyes silently before gazing into Horace's open mouth. His blue eyes inspected his perfectly white teeth, his slender tongue. Before long, his attention was captured by his thin, pale lips.

Enoch tilted his head and moved forward sharply, and Horace lifted his arms protectively. His movement caused his hat to fall onto the hard floor, and he sheepishly kept his hands in front of his face. "Gah! Enoch, please... I k-know this is your territory and you know where all the special tools are and whatnot so P-PLEASE don't move so rapidly."

Enoch glanced at Horace's top hat on the floor, and then at his raised hands. He was surprised that Horace didn't lurch for his hat, worried that germs would get on it. Suddenly, a dark feeling came over the syndrigast. He felt pity for his friend, worried that he might be causing him harm. He unconsciously looked down at himself, frightened that he may have grabbed a scalpel without knowing. However, he saw no sharp object that would hurt his friend. Slowly, he lifted his ghastly eyes back to Horace's face.  _Is my presence alone enough to torment him?_

With a scowl, he moved forward even more. Horace's feelings did not matter in this situation. They weren't important. The only thing of importance was doing what Enoch longed to do. He reached to grab Horace's shoulder, but Horace's hands quickly rammed into Enoch's chest.

Grunting, Enoch stared forward silently as those slender hands touched his dirty clothing. The feeling electrified him, and he felt a strange longing. A longing for Horace to understand what Enoch was feeling, the longing for Horace to be comfortable in his midst. Weren't such feelings a plague to humanity? Care for another was just an obstacle in one's life, and he didn't want to be plagued by it. His care for the headmistress and his friends would always be there, of course, but this kind of care... it was so different and  **absurd**. Yet, Enoch couldn't control his heart beat. It was beating faster than any of his creations' hearts had beaten before.

"Horace..." Enoch whispered softly, ignoring Horace's attempt to push him away. His arms linked around the smaller boy, and he moved his mouth in front of Horace's. His warm breath touched Horace's tongue, and Horace could only stare in disbelief. The usually not so touchy-feely Enoch was captured by Horace's breath and how his heart beat was oh so clearer when he got so close. He had never been this close.

Enoch's fingers tightened around Horace's waist, and he lowered his head to his pale neck. He breathed all along it, softly and quietly, yet he longed to act quicker. He seemed stuck in slow motion, his limbs unable to act any faster. Gently, his tongue touched Horace's flesh and a brilliant sound came from his companion's mouth. Oh, how his skin tasted sweet. He longed to hear that sharp cry again, so he ran the soft mass of muscle that resided in his oral cavity across that perfect skin.

Horace was a quivering mess, hands holding onto Enoch's chest tightly. To feel him tremble encouraged Enoch even more, the soft pounding of their hearts together in this quiet, nasty-smelling basement fueled a hunger Enoch had never truly experienced.

After he had coated Horace's neck in a thick layer of saliva, he moved to unbutton the jacket the well-dressed boy was wearing. It came off easily, as Horace was still in the state of shock, and so did the white shirt underneath. Enoch huffed softly into Horace's chest. He stared, observing carefully and tracing his finger over the small ribs that showed underneath the warm flesh. His thumb ran across Horace's belly button and then back up to his chest. He stared at the two soft round bulges that were placed on his chest, and he saw them begin to harden from the cold.

"Don't worry, Horace..." the dead-riser breathed as he slowly pulled Horace to the floor. Horace murmured to himself quietly, words inaudible. Enoch expected silence from the submissive boy throughout this whole process, but he was surprised when the shy boy spoke.

"Enoch..." he whispered, tears in his eyes. "How long have you felt like this?"

Enoch stared silently down at Horace, that bare chest rising and falling quickly with each breath. Enoch resisted the urge to lie, as he usually did tell lies. Now was not the time for lies... This time was different. "Forever..." he whispered with a grin and then grabbed Horace's thigh.

Horace squeaked, face as red as the tomatoes in the garden outside. Enoch loomed over Horace as if Horace were prey, and Enoch was eager to feast on the delicious morsel. These thoughts were so new to him, but at this point he couldn't control them.

He took one of the tender nipples in his mouth, coating the little, fleshy mountain in saliva. Enoch was aware of Horace's legs shifting nervously, brushing against Enoch's legs. How Enoch longed to feel skin there instead of the soft clothing material. He moved one hand down towards Horace's crotch, hesitating before slowly sliding his thin fingers underneath the fabric. Horace had become a mess by now, yet Enoch wasn't worried of harming him anymore. It seemed that Horace was liking this special treatment.

What Enoch felt beneath those trousers lit a fire inside of him that could never be put out. He couldn't help but moan at how small the member was in his hand, yet as he continued to touch in these foreign places, the member grew harder and more eager to get out of the dress pants. 

Enoch gently slid both dress pants and underwear down, and observed the small boy before him. Although there wasn't a very big difference in terms of their height and manhood, Enoch felt the need to devour this shy boy and claim him as his own. Slowly, he rid of the shoes and lower clothing of Horace, moving them off to the side. Slowly, he leaned down and rubbed his body all along Horace's form. Horace moaned softly up at Enoch at this, and Enoch felt Horace's excitement against his thigh. 

He shifted on top of Horace, moving one of Horace's legs so he could see his slender backside. With a concerning chuckle, he whispered over Horace's back, "you're so beautiful... for a coward such as yourself. What a beautiful doll you are..." He slowly slid his callused fingers up to his mouth and slid them inside. His tongue squirmed along them, soaking them completely as they slide in and out of his mouth. Once he was done, he carefully lowered those fingers to Horace's backside. 

"E-Enoch..." Horace whimpered. "I-I... I haven't..."

"I know..." Enoch whispered into his ear, tapping it with his tongue once. "I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you." With that, he gently slid his wet fingers into the tight cavity. 

"Gahh... ghh..." Horace closed his eyes tightly and began breathing more heavily than he already had been. Enoch was surprised at how warm Horace was inside, and pushed deeper and deeper, making Horace's groans even louder as he went. He could feel the muscle stretching, accepting Enoch's finger. 

Enoch looked down at Horace, and shuddered at seeing how his back curved in the midst of bliss. He longed to figure out how much that beautiful body of his could transform. 

He slipped another finger in, a squelching sound coming from within that warm orifice due to the saliva. Enoch gently thrusted his fingers into Horace's backside, his throat creating a purring sound as he licked Horace's slender back. Enoch couldn't get any more aroused by this dapper boy beneath him. He wanted to devour him. 

Before long, he removed his trousers and boxers and noticed how hard his manhood was. Horace glanced back slowly at hearing clothes rustle, and he gasped shakily at seeing Enoch's member. Embarrassed, Horace turned his head away and closed his eyes. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look..."

"You can look as much as you want to..." Enoch carefully turned Horace around and gripped one of Horace's legs. He rubbed along it, reaching across the slender cheek of his rear to dart a finger inside. He was acutely aware of their members touching and rubbing, and Enoch was thrilled to see he was slightly bigger than Horace. He cackled gently and Horace dared laugh shakily in response, knowing how Enoch loved to be superior. 

With his other hand, he pinned one of Horace's arms against the floor and pressed himself against Horace's entrance. He had to shift and align himself, and Horace gasped sharply when Enoch went inside him. The feeling was like nothing Enoch had ever felt before. 

"T-This is shameful..." Horace whimpered up at Enoch. "T-These things were forbidden by my family, everyone..." He was quickly silenced by Enoch thrusting further into him. The look in Enoch's blue eyes reassured Horace that all would be well.

Enoch's eyes looked nothing like they ever had before. They looked... alive. Usually they were dull and bored and hard to look at for long, but now they were alive. They were bright and perhaps even happy. As Horace and Enoch moved with each other as one, Enoch knew he may not be so bored around here afterall. 

 

\---

Horace lifted a few heavy plates up towards a shelf in the kitchen, grunting as he struggled to hold them. He muttered angrily to himself, ashamed of how incapable he was. As he continued to reach, the heavy panting of Enoch entered his mind. His eyes clouded over as he saw his arms stretch up to Enoch's hair, tugging gently as he was taken by the typically cruel boy. Gasping, Horace's arms gave out and he dropped the glass dishes on the hard floor. He flinched as they shattered into many pieces. He put a hand over his chest and closed his eyes tightly, Enoch's blue eyes stuck in his mind.

Hugh quickly rushed into the kitchen, followed by the floating pajama shirt and pants of Millard. "Are you alright?" Hugh asked as he quickly moved Horace away from the broken glass. As he spoke, a few bees buzzed rapidly around their heads in response to Hugh's sudden concern. 

Horace heard Millard groan. "Those were some of the Miss's favorite dishes..." he grumbled in disappointment. Horace lowered his head nervously as he watched the two clean up the mess he had made. He stared numbly down at the glass shards, Enoch's eyes still visible in his head. 

Before long the mess had been cleaned up, and Hugh checked the younger boy for any cuts. Once he confirmed that he was alright, he sent Horace off and reassured him that Millard and he would finish the dishes, much to Millard's dismay.

Horace walked out into the sitting area, rubbing his arms quietly. He hoped that his punishment wouldn't be too harsh, Miss Peregrine really did love her antique plates. Unconsciously, Horace glanced over towards the basement stairwell with a small smile. It didn't matter, the punishment he got. He would be able to bear it, knowing that his beloved dead-riser was in that basement, doing whatever he did down there. His heart beating rapidly, he headed for the door that led outside, knowing that from now on, things would be oh so different for the dreamer... in a good way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! These two are precious cuties, and I wanted to write a fanfic of them. 
> 
> Your feedback is very appreciated, thank you!


End file.
